Escape
by YunaDax
Summary: Sam must elude those that pursue her and free the rest of SG1.
1. Chapter 1

Her lungs burned, the moisture from her stinging eyes blurring her vision causing the ground before her to shift and sway as though manipulated by the hand of a higher power. Muscles and tendons screamed within her body, begging, pleading for a reprieve but still she pushed on, fighting her way past the physical pain. She had to escape, regroup then return to free the rest of SG-1, captured by violent villagers who knew this land far better than they did. She glanced back and saw the riders still on her trail, cantering through the dense forest, weaving through the trees as those some giant slalom. She had to find somewhere to hide, somewhere to rest, and recover for a short time. But time was something she didn't have a lot of right now.

" There!" Shouted the lead rider, his handsome black mount almost rearing in excitement. For a time she had lost them, her bootprints obscured by the dense underbrush, but the moist riverbed she had just run across provided little cover, or protection from their trackers. Sam swore to herself and pushed forward, ignoring the protest of her weary body. In the middle distance, through some more dense brush, she could see a set of hills, hopefully she could find a cave, or a fallen tree, anything. Desperation had kicked in a long time ago, and the experience felt strangely similar to the time the super-soldier had tried to hunt her down for the device she had designed to use against it. Damnit why was the galaxy always against her?

Thankfully the dense brush returned shortly after she crossed the riverbed, allowing her to duck and weave and try and lose those that pursued her. They were gaining on her position, and arrows started whizzing by, some nearly clipping her as they continued to whistle through the air, but once again the thick brush had slowed them down. She couldn't quiet tell if they had sighted her, or were shooting blindly and she wasn't about to waste time turning around to find out. Another volley of arrows as they lost her bootprints another time, she could hear the shouting of the leader again, calling for them to scout faster. They knew she wasn't far ahead of them.

A scream of pain was bitten off as one of the arrows lodged itself firmly in her side and she dropped unwillingly to the ground, clutching at the wound. Forcing an eye open she spied a large fallen tree, its core rotten by years of weathering and use by animals. The large trunk was mostly intact and also hollow and she dragged herself towards it, breaking the arrow off near the tip and tucking it into her boot, being as careful as she could not to leave any tracks. Once hidden she remained perfectly still, fighting the urge to curl into a ball and cradle her injury. The arrow had bitten deep, but thankfully was no near any vital organs. It hurt like hell though, and tears of pain leaked from her eyes, already adjusting to the dim light of the hollow. It stank, reeked even and she could feel insects of some sort beginning to crawl over her body, legs and bristle sliding over her clothing and across bare skin. She fought the urge to shudder.

What seemed like an eternity later, the voices and hoofbeats dimmed and eventually faded all together, and still she remained perfectly silent. They could have left scouts on foot, or it could be a ruse to flush her out under the cover of nightfall.


	2. Treatment

Chapter 2

Lt Colonel Samantha Carter's eye cracked open, a giant effort as though they were weighted down with concrete. She started, almost banging her head on the low tree hollow she was still concealed in. Memories rushed back to her and she gingerly felt down on left side, grimacing as the simple movement sent sparks of pain radiating up her side. Yep, it wasn't a dream, that much was for sure. She squashed the raising panic and locked it firmly down in a secluded section of her subconscious, forcing herself to try and think rationally. Carefully she stilled her movements, straining her hearing to see if there was any indication as to where her pursuers were. A scurry here, a whisper of the breeze rustling the leaves of the trees around, but nothing to say that anyone was still in the forest. She knew she couldn't stay in the hollow forever, if somehow the rest of SG-1 had managed to escape the prison cell she had seen them thrown into, they would never be able to find her where she was.

After another long listen to the sounds around her and Sam made the punt to leave the tree hollow, carefully and slow not so much as to not make a lot of noise, but to cradle the injury that threatened to be jostled with every movement she made. Her progress was slow and painfully but soon enough she was once again out in the relative open, crawling over to a particularly dense copse of trees to regain her strength.

The smooth bark of the tree behind her was almost comfortable as she shrugged out of the combat vest she always wore on offworld missions, rather miffed that the heavy material webbing hadn't protected her. Pity the arrow had struck her in the side where the powers that be deemed to be little risk and had left the majority of the dense protection off that area. 'Weight' she remembered them commenting when they were questioned about that very matter. If they protected the wearers entire upper torso the weight of the vest itself would make it impractical. Yeah, real impractical.

A dark red stain had spread across her lower left torso, soaking the green material of her uniform and darkening as time passed. The tip of the arrow was still imbedded within her side, and she knew it would have to come out sooner rather than later. The field first aid courses that all SG team members were required to take told her that it hadn't struck anything vital, but she knew she wouldn't be able to anything until it was removed, and the wound cleaned and dressed.

Flipping open one of the myriad of pockets she found the mini first aid kit that they all carried. A small container of saline solution, some swabs, and two bandages. The big kit was with Daniel, who of course was sitting in some stinking village prison cell with the rest of her team. Gingerly she removed the items from the pouch and laid them on the ground in front of her, staring at them for a moment to compose herself before grasping the shaft of the arrow as firmly as she could, and pulling as hard and quick as she could. The scream of agony was bitten off by the hilt of her knife she'd had the sense to put between her teeth just before pulling. Her vision swam and danced before her, the ground tilting and rolling in a sickening fashion. 'No' she thought to herself 'Can't pass out now'. It would have been a welcome relief from the world of pain that she had landed herself in. But then she could have bled to death in the middle of some alien world hidden in a copse of trees where no-one would ever find her. Nope – that wasn't going to happen.

Slowly the pain began to ease, subsiding from a screaming agony to a mind numbing ache. Carefully she released the pressure on the wound and picked up the saline solution, snapping off the lid and dousing one of the swabs in the sterile mixture. The knife still between her teeth she began to clean the wound, grimacing at every touch but knowing it needed to be done. Once it was as clean as she could make it she wadded on of the bandages into a square pad and pressed it over the entry wound, using the other to bind it into place firmly. It hurt like hell – but the pain would get better over time.

Finally finished, she spat out the knife hilt and sagged against the tree behind her, emotionally and physically exhausted.


	3. Under Cover

Again, Sam's eyes creaked open, her breathing coming in raggard gasps as her body adjusted to the level of pain she had just inflicted on it. The wound now cleaned and bandaged, would slowly get better with time, but at the moment all she craved was the morphine that would be in the first aid pack that she conveniently didn't carry. At least she wouldn't die of an infection now. A small victory in the whole scheme of things. She took out her ration packs from her pockets, looking at the assortment of dried shriveled food and dehydrated taste. She had a little water left in her canteen, but didn't feel like eating much at the moment. Stregnth had to be conserved, but later she would eat. Instead she took a few sips of water and rested her head against the smooth bark of the tree behind her. She craved to be back home, arguing some scientific mission over Jack's traditional 'let's go kick some ass' mission, she craved the less than appetizing meals in the commissary, heck, she even missed her simple attempts at cooking. Sagging cheesecakes, el dente pasta, and slightly soggy soufflé. Oh the joys of culinary delights that so paled against the crisp dry crackers that some scientist with no tastebuds called rations. She missed Schroedinger terribly and wondered what piece of her furniture he was currently sleeping on. Thoughts of home kept her grounded and prevented her from spiraling into disappear. It seemed hopeless, alone and injured how was she going to rescue the rest of SG-1? First things first, she had to get moving.

Grunting she took her time getting to her feet, carefully examining the area around her to make sure no-one was watching or still hunting for her. She remained perfectly still, listening for anything, but hearing only the small rustles of the native fauna. No-one was there.

Slowly and carefully she moved out of her hiding place, still extremely alert and aware, she progressed through the forest, leaning on a tree truck here, resting in a small cave there, but still moving forward. She came across the dry riverbed and realized she had no way of crossing it without leaving evidence that she had done so. Even now her bootprints were evident in the mud a day after she had originally crossed there, partially obscured by the cacophony of hoofbeats around them. She had to find another way in case they got curious, she couldn't let them know she was still alive, and plotting a way to free her friends. An idea came to her and she moved upstream, nearly a kilometer to where a small weir had been built, levying the flow of water downstream. She could cross here with water not raising above her waist, thus leaving no footprints for all to see. Tentatively she advanced, thankful for the dense crown of foliage overhead, casting deep dark shadows over the low water. The water was freezing as it seeped into her boots, but she pushed forward, grimacing as her legs became soaked and then nearly up to her hips. It was like walking through pure ice, but it afforded her the cover she needed. By the time she had reached half way her teeth were beginning to chatter, but she forced the sensation away, trying to focus on a hot summers day in Colorado Springs. It didn't work but she pushed on anyway, dragging herself out of the water and back into the forest undergrowth. Her boots squelched uncomfortably and her socks would soon become a wonderful breeding ground for all kinds of fungus and bacteria. As soon as she freed her team she would spend hours in a hot shower, washing away the cold and the dirt she was caked in. Oh how that would be nice.

After hours carefully making her way through the scrub using only her memory and compass to guide her she finally came to a large field that bordered the village. She could just see the prison on the far side, its barred windows and solid stone walls making in one of the most imposing buildings in the village. Just what she needed when she had to break into it. The C4 was still safely secured in her vest along with its detonator, she had a few grenades, and a fresh clip of ammunition for her P90. Her zat was lost somewhere in the forest and it was not something she felt like backtracking all that way for – not matter how valuable it would be. But then again, a P90 and a few grenades were going to do bugger all to get her inside the village without sticking out like a sore thumb. She needed an alibi, and she needed a change of clothes.

Forunately a few women from the village were washing their dresses in the river downstream, using an old fashioned washboard and cakes of soap to get the well worn material as clean as they could. Sam could hear them chatting amicably, singing songs here and there as they worked. It wouldn't be hard to follow them back to where they were hanging their clean clothes on large wires strung between two trees, a makeshift clothes lines. Sheets and other bedlinen billowed in the breeze and would be easy to hide behind while she unpegged a dress and bolted.

An hour later her plan had been accomplished, her BDU's safely stashed in a cave near the river and herself now sporting a slightly larger working woman's dress and bonnet. The soft fabric felt strange over her close cropped and rather grotty hair, but it easily concealed the telltale blonde strands against the casual observer's eye.

At least now she could move relatively easily around the village, but now she was practically defenseless. There was nowhere to conceal her P90, so it had been left behind with her clothes, her knife was concealed within her boots, but the rest was back in the cave. She could always go back and get it if needed. But for now – she had some serious scouting to do.


End file.
